


Not Always Sunshine and Roses

by MysticalShizz



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Bodyswap, Chronic Illness, Chronic Pain, Hurt No Comfort, Soulmate Bodyswap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:07:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27526609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MysticalShizz/pseuds/MysticalShizz
Summary: The soulmate swap was tradition: on summer solstice of the year you are destined to meet your soulmate, you swap bodies for 24 hours. But what happens if you have chronic pain? What does that mean from the soulmate in your body?I left the reader gender neutral, but did base the pain on my own (as an AFAB person with endometriosis). In the fic, the reader/reader's body is in a flare-up.
Relationships: Aone Takanobu/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 34





	Not Always Sunshine and Roses

When he wakes, the first thing Aone knows is pain. Blinding, throbbing pain. 

The soulmate swap was tradition: on summer solstice of the year you are destined to meet your soulmate, you swap bodies for 24 hours. Historians believed it to be the universe’s way of guiding soulmates together, allowing you into their body as a form of furthering the connection. There was no set age for the body swap, some swapped as babies, others as elders. 

Breathing heavily from his nose, trying to calm his racing heart, Aone wondered what cruel trick the universe was playing. This has to be a mistake, it isn’t possible that one person was living in pain like this day in and day out. Sometime during the swap, Aone found himself curled into a ball, hands covered protectively around his abdomen. It takes a minute, but Aone manages to open his eyes and look around. 

The room is still dark, despite the clock reading 9:46 AM. Tilting his head up, he can see the cause: thick blackout curtains pulled across the windows at the head of the bed. Closing his eyes again, he takes a deep breath, lungs burning as he realizes he had been holding his breath. Aone switches to his tactile senses. The room is warm, with a ceiling fan offering a slight breeze. Reaching out, his hands glide along soft, worn sheets, before coming into contact with the zebra-print body pillow he had seen moments before. It’s fuzzy, and as he wraps his legs and arms around it, doesn’t lessen the pain, but does provide him a different kind of comfort. With his face pressed into the body pillow, he takes another breath. The pillow smells slightly floral, a little sugary; maybe your detergent? Or your body spray?

Aone steels himself, before opening his eyes once again. The clock now reads 10:00 AM. In the back of his mind he’s horrified at how long he’s been in bed, but the thought of moving, the threat of more pain (could there be more?), is louder than his horror. 

His soulmate has glow in the dark stars on the walls and ceiling of their room. Some look reminiscent of constellations, and, if he tries hard enough, he can almost make a few out. There’s a closet to the left of the bed, with a bead curtain rather than a door. The curtain is simple, pink, with the beads in the shape of crystals. There’s a door across the room from the foot of the bed, with stickers plastered across it. When he concentrates, he can tell that the pain is concentrated in his abdomen. However, the feeling curls outward, so while the pain is coming from his abdomen, his legs and arms all throb in a phantom pain. 

Distantly, he realizes that he is hungry, but the thought of food makes his stomach curl. He needs to get up though, if not to eat, then to use the toilet. First, he uncurls his fingers from the body pillow. Once his hands have straightened out, he makes a few experimental fists, getting the blood flowing back into his fingers. He pulls his hands back to his chest, before focusing on his lower half. Starting by wiggling his toes, then rotating his ankles, before releasing the pillow from the grip of his thighs. Now, back in the position he started in, he works on straightening his body. 

The first move to straighten has Aone letting out a yelp of pain, as what feels like fire shoots through his whole body. There are tears in his eyes as he stops, curling back up. Aone closes his eyes, tries to get his breathing under control as the shock of pain becomes a dull throb. He opens his eyes, the red numbers of your clock are fueling an irrational anger bubbling beneath the surface of his skin. 10:24 AM. Closing his eyes again, he breaths to disperse the frustration and anger he feels at the inability to do such a menial task. This time, he focuses on just straightening his legs at the knee. When he doesn’t feel another shock of pain, he starts to straighten his legs from the hip. The pain comes back, but this time it isn't as inhibiting. He has to breathe harder through his nose to cope, which takes all of his focus to continue, but he manages to extend his legs. 

He rolls over onto his back, and is distinctly thankful that his soulmate’s sheets are comfortable. The weight of the comforter above him provides a little relief, putting pressure on his sore abdomen. Logically, he knows he can’t sit up right away. If he tried to sit up, he would end up back in the fetal position he had just managed to escape from. An idea hits him, and, with no other option, he begins to move. Aone starts by rolling 360 degrees toward the edge of the bed. Once close enough, he rolls onto his stomach, bracing his arms under him, he pulls his knees under him as well. With herculean effort, he raises his body, sticking the leg closest to the edge out. 

The first touch of his foot against the ground feels monumental. Maneuvering his body, he gets both feet on the ground, both hands still braced on the bed, body still curled over. Standing makes it difficult to ignore the nausea, the bile crawling, burning its way up his throat. Biting his lip, he closes his eyes again, and breathes heavily through his nose. 

Every movement feels like an individual battle, and while he feels like he’s accomplishing something, exhaustion is weighing heavy in his bones. The bathroom feels miles away, it’s so tempting to just fall back into bed. Swallowing back the nausea, he opens his eyes and pushes himself up into a standing position. The effect is immediate: black spots dancing across his vision, a flash of heat almost driving him to his knees. It’s agony. The feeling passes in a moment, but it leaves him shaky and unbalanced. He hunches over slightly, making staggered steps toward the door. 

At the door, he rests his forehead against the cool wood, thinking about his next moves. He doesn’t know where the bathroom is in this home. He doesn’t know who else is home. Does his soulmate live alone? With their parents? Do they have siblings? Pets? There’s so much to learn about them while swapped, but there’s no way he will have the energy to do any of that. While braced against the door, he hears the doorbell ring. Moments later, someone answers. A woman, her voice bright and inviting. He can’t make out her words, but she laughs at what the guest says, before the door shuts again. 

It’s silent for a moment, before footsteps head toward the room he’s in. It’s daunting, not knowing who is headed his way. Is it his soulmate’s mother? Does she know that it’s not her child in this body? HIs racing thoughts are disturbed by three knocks on the door, startling him back a step. 

He opens the bedroom door, coming face to face with himself. He had never seen such a worried expression on his own face. He watches his soulmate run a hand across their, his, face, before looking back at him, with tears in their eyes. With a sob, they choke out one word.

“Sorry.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Twitter! @MysticalShizz


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